


Righteous Men

by Atomicinsomniac



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Historical, I dunno it's religious mumbojumbo, Jack Morrison was a Paladin, Lost Virtue, M/M, Monster Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Overwatch is an organization of Paladins, Soldier: 76/Monster Hunter, They fight monsters and stuff, self-indulgent AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 20:11:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14838413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atomicinsomniac/pseuds/Atomicinsomniac
Summary: Jack is a former Paladin who has fallen from grace. No longer protected by his magical Grace- having lost his virtue years before to a man who betrayed him- Jack still continues to fight against the forces of darkness with any means at his disposal. He hears rumors of a beast terrorizing a small village high in the mountains and takes it upon himself to investigate and exterminate the creature. Upon reaching the village, he finds that nothing is what it seems. Things from his past have dug themselves up, and Jack is forced to come to terms with the fact that the man who once betrayed him may have been innocent; the people he once thought of as his family may have more sinister intentions than he could ever have imagined.





	Righteous Men

**Author's Note:**

> A work in progress of a self-indulgent AU where Jack is a Paladin who lost his magical God-given protection after losing his virginity and Reaper is the monster he's sent to defeat. There's some plotty stuff thrown in there too if you squint. It might actually try to be more serious than I'm making it out to be here. In other news, I like thinking about how the Order of OverWatch is just chock full of angry virgins. 
> 
> Yep.
> 
> Excuse any errors in the text, btw, this story is not beta'd.

"Sweet are the slumbers of the virtuous man." -- Joseph Addison

\------------

Jack's breath hung crystallized on the air before him. The cold air of the high mountains belying the fact that it was still the height of the summer season out on the plains. Frost glittered on the ground and crunched beneath his mount's hooves as they climbed higher; the morning air was still and Jack couldn't help but notice the absence of birdsong. The silence of the hills was practically deafening compared to the valley below. He could feel his mount's unease in the way the beast's muscles trembled with each cautious step. Its ears curled back against its skull and its eyes rolled at every echo that came from the dark woods around them. Jack did not like how quiet the forest was, something wasn't right here and the forest creatures knew. They were lying low, hiding from whatever it was that had disturbed their home.

A flash of color ahead caused Jack to pull back on the reins, his mount tossed its head in agitation and stopped. Dropping to the ground, Jack bent to lightly finger a few broken twigs on a bush a handsbreadth from the ground. A few steps forward and Jack found more signs that the ground had been disturbed. Leading his mount behind him, Jack continued to follow the tracks as they lead him off the path, deeper into the woods. A large creature had recently come through this part of the forest. Twigs were broken, dirt was kicked up in long loping strides, and here and there Jack found droplets of red blood staining the ground. His blind left eye made tracking more difficult than it needed to be, but Jack had years of practice and had learned to compensate for his disability easily as time went on. The beast, whatever it was, was injured, and Jack was sure that it was trying to find a place to hide. He could not afford to let the beast run aground, he couldn't allow the creature time to lick its wounds and wait until sunset. He continued on, following its wild path through the undergrowth, tracking it relentlessly through the forest and into the mountains.

Soon enough, the tracks led Jack to the sheer side of the mountain. Two sheer cliff walls created a sort of gully that lead deeper into the mountain. The creature would try to find shelter as the sun rose Jack knew, and it seemed likely that this gully was leading to a system of caves where the creature could escape. Perhaps the creature had been using these caves all along to hide away from the harsh, unforgiving light of the sun during the day. Coming out at night to hunt and satiate its ravenous appetite on the villagers that lived at the base of the mountain. Whatever the case, Jack knew he would not be able to take his mount any further. 

Tying the reins loosely to a low hanging branch, Jack paused momentarily to remove a nose bag from the saddlebags, filling it with the feed from a small pouch at the horse's side. His horse settled Jack went back to his bags, removing a few items that would have confused any watchers that were not aware of what sort of quarry the man was truly hunting.

A small silver canister, sloshing to the brim with blessed water was pulled from within, followed by a thin chain of silver on which hung the symbol of the God of Light. This Jack fastened around his neck, and the canister was secured to his belt. A few more strange implements were retrieved and hidden about the man's person before he hefted the heavy rifle out from beneath its protective blanket roll. The gun was old, made of dark wood stained black from years of gunpowder and soot. One last bag was opened and Jack removed a long cylindrical object; a battered leather scabbard, out of which the silver pommel of a sword gleamed in the morning sun. Fastening the scabbard to his belt and shouldering the rifle, Jack took one last look at the rising sun, feeling it's scant warmth against his back and sighed. His hand raised to the symbol around his neck, a prayer fell mumbling from his lips as he proceeded further into the canyon after the beast he'd been hunting these past few nights.

\-------

The village rejoiced when the old hunter returned, dragging the carcass of the beast that had tormented them for months now behind him. The creature took the form of a massive black wolf; standing on all fours the beast's shoulders would have been at least the height of a normal man, easily dwarfing anyone should it have stood on its hind legs. Upon closer inspection, it had a few notable differences from a true wolf, not including its monstrous size. Its snout was shorter than a true wolf's, and its paws were twisted and strangely elongated, more like hands than actual paws with great twisted talons at the ends. Its black coat was thick and rough, matted down with months old blood from its many victims. When they hung it up above the town hall, the villagers noted with unease that it's large green eyes were unsettlingly human, and they seemed to glow even in death.

The old hunter had declined their offers of money, instead only accepting a meal of plain bread and water, directions to the next town along the mountain, fresh oats for his horse and the thanks of the village leader. The villagers watched in confusion as the old man remounted his horse and disappeared down the road again, leaving as abruptly as he had arrived just three nights before.

"Did you see the sword he had?" One of the older men asked as they watched him leave.

"Only members of the Order carry swords like that anymore.." another mumbled, more interested in thinking up ways to recover his recently depleted flock than some old man, a hero that he might or might not have been.

"He didn't look like any Paladin I've ever seen," remarked the first, "I heard they have magic, and that their foreheads glow with the mark of their God."

"They don't glow all the time," said the second, shaking his head, "Just 'round evil beings, or when they pray. He d'n't look like a Paladin though, for all that he had the sword. They're s'posed to be just and virtuous men, they are. He just looked tired and hungry."

"Perhaps he wasn't a member of the Order," the village leader interrupted, "But he's done this town a great favor. We owe him our lives. None of us would have been able to stop this beast. Let alone kill it and return alone and unharmed like that.. he may not have been a Paladin but he knew what he was doing. And he wouldn't take our money. Just and virtuous men are all well and good, but even the Order takes money when it's offered to them." Spitting on the ground, the leader turned to the hall and stared at the beast's vast carcass. Its red tongue lolling out from between jagged teeth; it seemed to smile at him, its eyes blank and glossy in death. "We should burn this thing like he said. Nothing good comes from a creature like this." 

The others agreed, the hunter forgotten now as the conversation moved on to how to dispose of the corpse of the creature properly. The villagers had little time for worrying after a stranger, especially one that very clearly had wanted to be on his way as quickly as that one had.

\----------

Jack stopped to rest when the sun was high above him. His horse was tired, having tracked the wolf across the mountain all night and into the morning. And if he was honest with himself so was he. He wished now that he had accepted the offer of lodgings for the night, but Jack had seen to the way the men's eyes had lingered on his sword after he had forgotten to hide it away. He'd thought it safer to put some distance between himself and prying questions. Discussing his past in any sense was not something Jack wanted. No matter how carefully he tried to hide away from other people they always managed to find some way to worm their curious questions into the conversation. Settling down into his bedroll, Jack let himself dream for a moment of a soft mattress and fluffy down-feather pillows to rest his head on, the likes of which he'd not seen in years. Luckily for him, the day had warmed considerably. While still chilly for summer, Jack was comfortable enough with his sparse blanket that he fell asleep quickly enough as soon as his aching joints had quieted down enough for him to sleep.

His dreams were the same as always, murky and lackluster. He shifted with each change of his thoughts, the deep frown lines on his face never softening even in sleep. His deep slumber was not interrupted as an owl dipped below the trees and perched on a trunk next to where he lay. It watched him for a while, ruffling its white feathers and preening its wings with a delicate black beak. Its yellow eyes narrowed to slits when the man slept on, unaware of its arrival. Jack was awoken by a sharp pain on the side of his head. Startled out of his dreams he heard flapping and the undignified squawk of the bird that had bitten him on the ear as it returned to the stump it had been perched on, narrowly avoiding his flailing fists.

"Oh, Athena. It's you." The owl blinked once at him, delicately holding out her claw, to which was tied a small silver tube. Jack reached over to untie the tube, yawning deeply and went to his saddlebags to search for a treat for the bird. So much for getting a decent day's sleep, he thought to himself as he rummaged through his bags. He shouldn't have been so surprised though; it seemed likely that all the forces of the universe had been conspiring against him from the moment he'd been born. Jack was not surprised that now the Gods seemed to deny him even the brief respite that a decent eight-hour rest would give him. When Athena turned her beak up at the dried strip of meat he offered her, Jack snorted in exasperation, tossing the treat aside and collapsing back down onto his bedroll in a huff.

"It's all I have you picky bitch, either take it or go hunt for yourself. You'd think that chunk of ear you just had would be enough to satisfy you." Returning to the message that had been in the tube he'd collected from Athena, Jack ignored her as she clacked her beak at him, angrily gulped down the strip of jerky and took off. No doubt going to find somewhere to settle down for the rest of the day. He took a small delight in knowing that the owl was probably just as tired as he was, having flown through the day when she normally should have been asleep at this time. The message must have been urgent for Winston to send her out before dusk.

Jack unrolled the message and glared at the small strip of paper. "No word yet on T. Town 40 leagues W of you asking for assistance. Creature unknown, dangerous. Be careful." Jack sighed, tossing the paper aside and pocketing the message tube. Winston had never been very good at getting enough information on these tiny slips of paper, his bestial hands making writing difficult enough as it was.. Jack could not complain, however, knowing that the beast-man was taking a terrible risk even sending him these messages. Should the Order ever find out that one of their own was sending covert information to a fallen member.. well... Winston could get in a lot of trouble. Jack knew and appreciated the risk that his old friend was taking for him, even if he wished Winston would just get a bigger bird or learn how to scry instead of sending him messages by angry, nippy owl.

Well... West seemed to be the direction he was heading in now. Forty leagues... It would take him a little while to get there, a few days at least if he didn't want to run his already ragged mount near to death. The villagers had directed him toward the nearest town, which was just over the mountain. And since it was on his way Jack supposed he could stop there for a night and at least see that his horse slept in a warm barn for a few hours before they began the long journey further west. There were still a few hours left till dusk though, so he took the opportunity to nibble at his crusts of bread and lay his head down again. Though sleep remained beyond him now that he was fully awake again.

Athena joined him as he began to break down his camp, the sun had begun to set when he finished packing up his meager possessions. Jack took his mount by the lead and began to walk, knowing that soon enough it would be too dark to ride and wanting to give the animal a break from having to carry its heavy burden. With the threat of the wolf gone, the animals would begin to return to this side of the mountain, Jack knew he could stand to tarry a little. He preferred traveling at night in any case, there was little chance of him meeting any fellow travelers on the roads in the dark. And any man or beast foolish enough to try its luck at attacking him would soon learn how unwise it was to molest someone mad enough to travel alone at night. The moon rose steadily, lighting Jacks path and the man took the time to bask in the familiar glow of the silver counterpart of the celestial body that had once ruled his life.

Letting his mind wander, Jack felt the memories he tried to keep buried stir. Too tired to hold them back, for now, he let them wash over him. It would at least keep his mind busy as he walked, he reasoned, and at this point, he was too tired and sore to care.

Years ago, Jack had been selected from a group of young men collected from the neighboring villages of his small rural community. He and a handful of young men and women had been brought to the towering spires of the Order of the Light that overlooked the sea, far to the east of the lands he called home. The Order were self-proclaimed followers of the God that Watches, a Sun God of the old Faith. They were comprised of a group of men and women who had devoted their lives to service of the God. They were warriors of faith, paragons of virtue, chaste followers of the Old Religion. The OverWatch--as the people they protected had taken to calling them-- collected young people from any and all far-flung countries that they could. Teaching them how to fight the dark forces that threatened and tormented the common peoples of the land. In those years, the Order had been strong, their influence widespread. They had kept the people of his land safe from the creatures that bred in darkness and their mission was to vanquish evil from the land. They were righteous and self-sacrificing men; having pledged themselves to the God they were granted protection in the form of Divine favor, sometimes called Grace. They became holy warriors, Paladins who used their divine blessings to protect those that they could.

Jack had studied and trained like the rest of them, finding within him a need to protect and serve the people he had known all his life. He had seen as one by one the recruits around him left or failed test after test. Most of them leaving in shame when it became clear that they were not able to live the pious and austere lives of a Paladin of the Order. Jack remained, steadfast in his desire to protect and to spread the message of his Faith to those who needed it most. Soon enough, he was the only one of the small group left, and he had proven himself before the members of the order as a man of true virtue and bravery. After a series of harrowing trials and rituals, Jack had been granted magical protection in the form of Grace granted by his God. The mark on his forehead that proclaimed him as a follower of the God that Watches. It glowed bright and strong with the fervor of his Faith. 

So long ago now that Jack could barely remember it, he'd been proud to call himself a member of the Order, to take up his sword and defend those who could not defend themselves. His pride perhaps had been his downfall. It was a dreadful thing, pride, and Jack knew just how quickly it could turn to vanity and arrogance. How it could blind a man of faithfulness to the truth. He remembered how his own narcissism had begun to crack at the armor of his Grace. And how it had lead to the fall of a good man and scrupulous devotee once those cracks had been discovered and worked at by a skilled manipulator. Jack couldn't blame himself completely though, his fall had not just been his own fault. He had been too trusting, for sure, and too stupid to see how his naivety was being used against him. No, he was not the only one to blame for his fall from Grace, that much he was completely sure of. He'd been led astray by the one thing that he hadn't been able to protect himself from; love... And it had destroyed him and everything he had worked for in one moment of weakness.

After losing his divine protection, his Grace, Jack had fled the Order in disgrace. Many of them now thought him dead, he had made sure of that. Only Winston and a few others knew he was still out there, still fighting against the darkness though he'd lost his light years ago. It was easier for the Order to think him dead. And part of Jack couldn't help but take solace in the fact that barely anyone knew of his fall except those few he was closest to at the end. His damnable pride again, not wanting others to gloat over his weakness. He wanted to remain the ardent and unwavering servant of light that he had been in many people's minds. He wanted at least some people to still think of him as a hero, though he knew now that he was anything but a good man.

\-----

Jack's sullen retrospection was interrupted when he heard voices ahead of him on the road, torches lit up the night ahead of him. He stopped, wondering if he should leave the path or if he should stand his ground before the group heading his way noticed him. But before he could his mount whinnied at the sound of approaching horses and he heard the group fall silent.

“Who travels this late at night with no torch to guide his steps?” Shouted a deep voice and a large man came into view on the path, lit from behind by the torches. If Jack could roll his eyes back any further it was entirely possible that he would go blind in both of his eyes, not just his left. Had he been an evil creature, these men would have been dead far before this. They weren't exactly the stealthiest of hunting parties, with all their noise and light they would have scared any night time forest animals for miles ahead of them. 

“A traveler who is eager to find a place to lay his head down,” Jack replied, stepping into the light with his hands held up and empty save for his horse's lead, so the men could see that he meant them no harm. 

“You're traveling at a strange time, my friend,” the leader of the group said, his voice still tinged with distrust, “These are dangerous times. You should not be traveling this late at night by yourself. There are evil forces at work in these mountains.” Jack nodded, all too aware of what dangers could be lurking. Though he was sure if there had been any danger he could have avoided it easily, especially with such a loud and obviously unpracticed group of hunters just ripe with easy pickings. 

“I'd say the same for you, friends,” Jack's voice was raspy from disuse. He'd talked more in these three days then he had in months, and his throat was beginning to twinge uncomfortably. “Wouldn't you be better off at home, protecting your wives and children than out here in the dark, shooting at shadows?” The large man glared at him, and he felt the air grow a little colder as the group eyed him. He couldn't help but be a little troublesome, however. These men obviously had no experience hunting evil beings, they were just asking for trouble being out here in the wilds instead of home in their beds with their doors locked and their windows barred. 

“We are protecting our own, thank you very much,” one of the men piped up, though Jack quickly silenced him with a glare. Their leader shifted his weight from one large leg to another, taking Jack's measure. Jack let him look, he knew what he looked like. Though he was not nearly as imposing a presence as he'd once been when he was part of the Order, Jack still cut an impressive figure when he stood tall and squared his broad shoulders. It helped that his once handsome face was now cut in half by a large deeply puckered scar. His left eye was milky and farseeing, and his once corn-silk blonde hair was white as snow and cropped short to his head. He looked like the sort of man who would be traveling alone at night with no fear of the sorts of creatures that prowled the dark. He looked like the sort of man that would give dark beings pause before they attacked. As he was now giving these men pause, as they decided what to do. None of them quite willing to challenge this surly, grizzled stranger who has lead his dappled gray mount out of the darkness with the confidence of a man who knew he had nothing to fear. Even from a large group of men armed with torches and rifles. 

“We were protecting the borders of our village,” the leader finally explained, stepping forward and offering Jack a welcoming hand. Jack paused before taking the offered handshake, there was no point in offending these men beyond reason. They were too stupid to know any better, the well-meaning fools.

“If you're worried about the wolf-beast that's been terrorizing these mountains, you don't need to worry any further,” Jack said, “I've just been from that village. The monster is dead. I saw it's carcass with my own two eyes.” They needn't know he'd also dragged the things bloodied corpse down a mountainside. He was surprised however when he was only met with confused stares, the group mumbling uneasily among themselves as they watched him talk to their leader. 

“No, friend,” The man shook his head, “It's not a wolf that troubles us. In fact, our village so far has escaped any creature's notice. We hope to keep it that way. The monster lies further up the mountain. A child arrived in our village today, a survivor from a town high up in the hills. She has been wandering the woods for three days now, and when she arrived all she could tell us was that a dark cloud had attacked her village during the night. She could not tell us what the creature was, but we do not have the men to spare to go investigate her claims.” Jack noted that though they did not seem to have enough men to go rescue the village, they seemed to have enough men to spare to wander the woods at night like frightened children. Shouting at the dark and stupidly drawing all attention their way. Men never changed, he thought, shaking his head. 

“She had nothing else to say about the creature?” The man shook his head, his eyes curious as Jack reached into his saddlebags and rummaged around. Spying the small canister of healing herbs Jack had, his hand paused as well over the silver necklace. Knowing the men would trust him more if he showed them the symbol of the Order, Jack weighed his options before drawing out both the canister and the necklace. A ripple ran through the assembled men as the symbol of the God of Light glittered in the torchlight. “Here,” Jack said, handing the man the canister, “These herbs can be brewed into a healing tea. They will chase away any dark influences that may be lingering in the child's body. It tastes like death, but add a few drops of honey to cover the taste and let her sip it as soon as she is able.” The man tucked the small canister into his belt, nodding his thanks as his eyes lingered on the necklace that Jack was slipping over his head. They need not know that the necklace was just a useless lump of silver now, with no divine influence about it. It was a symbol, just as powerful in their minds as it would have been had his Grace still been intact. 

Jack turned to his horse and began to remove the saddlebags, motioning to one of the men to take his reins, which the bemused man did without a thought. “I'll need a fresh horse if I'm going to get up the mountain in good time. Give me one of yours. Mine needs rest and good, clean water and food.” Jack turned back and clicked his tongue when the men failed to move fast enough. “Horse, now.” He growled, letting a bit of the weariness in his body lend his voice a steel edge. 

“You mean to go after the monster yourself? In the middle of the night?” One of the men asked as a horse was brought forward and the saddlebags exchanged. Eyes widened as Jack withdrew his sword from its wraps and belted it to his side. They recognized the sigil, carved into the hilt. They knew it was a Paladin's sword. Jack wrested a torch from the unresistant fingers of the man who had spoken and in one swift movement had mounted his new horse. The beast was fresh and lively, prancing under his weight and making quiet noises of agitation as he adjusted the reins in his right hand. 

“Would you like to join me? I'm sure a brave man such as yourself could be of use.” Jack asked mockingly, gesturing to another of the horses. The man shook his head quickly and stepped back, earning himself jeers from his fellows, though none were willing to take his place Jack noticed. Jack turned to the leader, who nodded his head at him and placed a soothing hand on his former mount. “I'll be back for my horse in a few days. See that he's well taken care of. Point me in the direction I'm supposed to be going.” 

“Up ahead there's a fork in the track, take the north road. You'll come to the village within a day if you hurry. Though I'd advise you not to arrive at night. The child said the beast, whatever it is, comes with the dark. Gods willing there will still be survivors up there.” Jack nodded and raised a hand to his forehead, knowing that in times past the mark on his forehead would have flared dramatically with the gesture of Faith. He hoped none of these men had seen a true Paladin in quite some time, as the absence of divine light would have given him away almost instantly as someone who was not what they seemed. The men copied his gesture automatically, mumbling a prayer against the darkness as he turned his mount. “Good luck, sir,” the large man said, “May your God shelter you and bring you back triumphant.” Jack grunted in reply and kicked the horse into a trot, leaving the men behind to muddle around in the scant protection the light from their torches gave them. 

“Go home,” was the last thing he said as he rode into the darkness and along the track. The Gods have no interest in this old man anymore, he thought bitterly, not able to keep himself from yawning as Athena reappeared from wherever she had flown off to safety as soon as the mob had been heard. She perched on his shoulder, claws digging into the leather of his coat, and bit him in greeting and Jack snarled at her, though she only cooed at him in return. She knew he wouldn't do anything to her in retaliation. He never did. He silently cursed himself for yet again letting himself be taken off course by the pleading of strangers he barely knew, in defense of people who hardly deserved his protection. But even now, old and bitter as Jack was, he could not let the suffering of others go unheeded. If there was a chance he could save whatever villagers were left higher up the mountain, Jack knew he would charge in rifle blazing and sword held high. These little detours would end up killing him one day, of that Jack, was sure. 

\--------

There was a creature on the mountain. A monster slipped silently through the night, leaving no sign of its passage save the absence of noise as no living thing dared stir while it transpired on its way. Not even the night insects were making noise, knowing by some deep instinct of survival that danger was nearby, though they could not see it themselves. The moonlight seemed pale and weak in the presence of this abomination, its light seemed to be lapped up by the darkness of the thing. No light was reflected on the hide of the monster. It looked as if someone had taken a section of the night sky, being very careful to extract a piece with no stars whatsoever, and had given it form and being on the earth below. Worse than any monster wolf, this creature had no form unless it chose to make one. It spilled through the night air like dark ink, its tendrils forming and whipping about it as if they were blown in a high wind. 

It was searching for something, its questing darkness leaking into deep crevices in the trees. Into burrows and nests deep in the ground, searching for warmth and life. When it found what it was searching for, its tendrils closed around the terrified creatures. Solidifying suddenly and horribly like the tentacles of an octopus, wrapping around its victims and dragging them out and up to the middle of its cloudy core. There the struggling animal was pushed into the inky depths, disappearing with a few last gasping breaths. After a few moments, the monstrosity moved on, leaving a desiccated corpse in its wake. Its path was littered with these corpses that crumbled into grave mold as soon as they hit the ground. They would be blown away by the wind during the next day, no sign of them having ever existed would remain. 

The creature continued its hunt, probing tendrils spelling the doom of thousands of little lives as it traversed the dark forest, feeding. It was so hungry. Always hungry and the pain... Its existence was nothing but an endless cycle of ravenous gluttony and agonizing torment as the lives it greedily gulped down were quickly burnt up in the furnace of its being. Its body was constantly decaying around it as it tried desperately to renew itself with every life it consumed. 

It hadn't always been like this, the creature had a vague notion of a life before the hunger, before the suffering. It knew that the more lives it consumed, the more it remembered. The clearer its thoughts became as the energy from the souls it feasted upon gave it life and strength. A part of it fought its desire to return to the village and continue its feast there. Some deep part of it was repulsed by the idea of feeding off the souls of the humans that lived there. But the other part of it, the voracious, yearning, miserable part of it wanted to return. Wanted to finish the feast. It was so very tempting to let that part of it win.

It fought against itself, that deep part of itself winning for now as it turned away from the direction of the village, deeper into the forest. A doe, bedded down for the night beneath a large tree never even had time to open her eyes before the dark demon thrust a tendril straight down her throat and into her heart. Sucking up her life energy greedily, the deepest core of the creature glowing red as an ember as the doe's blood turned to ash in her veins. The life energy of such a large creature flooded the monster with such a rush of spirit that its form took on an almost humanoid appearance. Suddenly it was flooded with memories, memories that were even more excruciating for the moment than the ever-encroaching hunger. The creature opened its mouth and howled his agony into the night. 

He wanted revenge, he wanted to kill the ones who had made him like this. Remembering was all he had. The absorbing of life was all that kept him feeling like himself again. He knew that the only way he could truly sustain himself was with human lives, human souls. He needed them and he craved them more than anything he'd ever known. If he did not feed soon he would forget again, and then his memories would disappear along with his control and he would end up hunting down humans either way. He could never win, the hunger in him would not let him rest. He knew the only thing that would make him whole again was finding his revenge. If not that, then perhaps in trying to find retribution he would finally be granted the blessing of a true death. 

The monster hesitated, a memory stirring deep within of how welcoming the thought of death was to him, who it could possibly reunite him with should he find it at the hands of another being. His course, now veering back toward the village, stopped... wavered... and fled back into the forest yet again. Not yet, he thought. Perhaps he could find some more deer. An elk or even a bear. Something else. He couldn't return to the village yet. He must gather his strength. He needed to wait. Some power in him told him that he mustn't leave the mountain yet, though he had no idea what had drawn him here in the first place. He would stay and bide his time. And if he found any villagers wandering far from home, then he would gladly make a meal of them.

The creature prowled on, questing for sustenance before the sun rose. The light would chase it into some dark bolt hole for the day, but for now, it needed to feed. It was so hungry... so very, very hungry.


End file.
